Perception
by CrystalIceSweet
Summary: John thought that nothing could surprise him anymore until their 221C neighbor knocks on their door one afternoon and asks him to babysit his son. Who on earth is this Harry Potter and what is his relationship with Mycroft? What does Harry even do for a living? The more John discovers about Harry, the weirder things get. Royal!Harry SLASH MH/HP, JW/SH.


**Summary:** John thought that nothing could surprise him anymore until their 221C neighbor knocks on their door one morning and asks them to babysit his son. Who on earth is this Harry Potter and what is his relationship with Mycroft? The more John discovers about Harry, the more he realizes just how ignorant he really is. **SLASH MH/HP, JW/SH.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine**

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**Chapter 1 The Request**

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John was in the process of brewing his late afternoon tea when he heard a soft knock on their flat door. It was a quick little thing; just one tap then followed by two more. John may not have Sherlock's level of intellect but he knew enough to deduce that their visitor was neither Mrs. Hudson nor Mycroft; their two usual visitors. Mrs. Hudson had a strong knock, a sound that would reverberate through the whole place while Mycroft usually doesn't even bother knocking. When he does, his knocks were confident and self-assured, much like the man himself.

This knock however was different from any he had heard before, so coming to the decision that if he wanted to know who it was, the only thing he can do was to open the door.

And that's what he did.

The man – because it was indeed a man – on the other side was shorter than both Sherlock and John; a realization that actually made John pretty happy considering just how tired he was of always being the smallest of every group. But despite his diminutive height, the man compensated by having one of the most imposing presences John had ever encountered – and that is by taking in to account Mycroft's presence. He was obviously confident and held himself with a grace that reminded John of those royalties he sees sometimes on TV. But unlike those royalties, the man was dressed simply, in a Beatles T-shirt and jeans. He also held a small child by the hand.

"Hi," the man said as he held out his free hand, "The name's Harry; I'm your neighbor from 221C."

"I'm John," John replied while wondering just how he hadn't even noticed that someone had moved in just below them. He's not a detective like Sherlock, sure but he prided himself in being more observant than your average Joe. In all logic, he should have realized that there was one more tenant in this building; hell, Sherlock should have told him if he knew and John wasn't naïve enough to even consider the possibility that the other man didn't know because Sherlock – despite being a pain in the ass most of the times – was a certified genius and made it his business to know everything. Which brings John back to the present situation at hand; his neighbor and why the bloody git hadn't thought fit to tell John about it. "I didn't know we had neighbors."

"Oh yes, about that; we just moved in 2 days ago and hadn't had time to make our introductions" Harry replied rather apologetically, "But now that we're settled, I wanted to come meet you guys and kind of ask for a favor."

"A favor?" John echoed in surprise, not sure to be impressed or surprised that someone he had just met already trusted him enough to ask for his help, "Of course, what can I do for you?"

"You see," Harry started, a small blush creeping up his face, "I need to be somewhere really urgent in about 30 minutes and I don't have time to find a sitter. I can't bring Teddy here with me or leave him in my flat alone. Mrs. Hudson assured me that you and your boyfriend were nice people so I wondered if you could watch him for the night."

Too taken aback to even correct him about the "boyfriend" comment, John couldn't help but question: "And you just trust us like that; trust her words like that? Isn't that kind of naïve?"

Harry snorted; a sound that should have sounded uncouth but was anything but.

"Don't worry, I didn't want to tell you for fear that you might be offended or something, but I did background checks on everyone here before asking for the flat."

"Background checks?" John echoed, sounding even more confused; just who the bloody hell this Harry was to be able to access their information like that? Was he police? Or ex Special Forces? Or Military?

"Let's just say I have a pretty high up position in the government," Harry added, as if reading John's mind, "Don't worry so much; I'm not the bad guy nor am I on business. Right now I'm just a regular neighbor wondering if his neighbor can watch his adorable son for the night. Of course, I will pay you if that's your condition."

"Oh," John was pulled back into reality by Harry's words and can't help but let his gaze wander down to the little boy – Teddy as Harry has called him – who, noticing the attention, immediately smiled back up at him. He was obviously young and missing a tooth, but combined with his slightly flushed cheeks, tussled hair and dimples; he was easily the most adorable child John had ever seen. His heart melted at that and he couldn't be blamed for agreeing.

And that was how 10 minutes later, John found himself alone in his flat – Sherlock was out on some case that John couldn't follow him because of his job at the Clinic – with a 1 year old and no idea what to do. Harry may have given him some supplies – Teddy's pajamas, toothbrush, teddy bear and diapers – but apart from that, John had no idea what to feed the kid. What did toddlers eat anyway? Harry (his sister) had once babysat a kid some time ago during her teenage years but John hadn't been home at the time. When he did come home, all she said was how noisy the brat was and how happy she was to never do something like that again.

But, John thought as he glanced to the silent Teddy, almost to make sure he was still there, Teddy wasn't at all like the little monsters Harriet had described. Teddy had barely made a sound since Harry left; he wasn't crying, crawling around or demanding John's attention; frankly, it was kind of eerie.

"Ok Teddy, let's see what we can do with you," John mumbled to himself before picking the kid up and carrying him to the kitchen. Since John has no idea what to feed Teddy, hopefully the kid would give him some ideas.

The kitchen for once was completely clean; John couldn't thank the gods enough for actually compelling Sherlock to do the chores for once. The fridge, surprisingly, was also clean and filled with all kinds of food. There was lettuce, tomato, orange juice, eggs and even milk. It was so well stocked that John immediately felt suspicious. He had lived with Sherlock long enough to know that the man never did grocery shopping; the most he had done in the past was buy a bottle of milk on his way back and that's only because he needed the thing for an experiment or something. But now, not only was their non-skim milk, there was also a 2% milk and chocolate milk. He was distracted from further contemplating what all this meant when Teddy made a grabbing motion towards the chocolate milk.

Having gotten the message, John deposited Teddy in a chair – hoping he won't fall off – and went to search for cups. He found some plastic ones he was sure he had never brought, on the bottom shelf. They were still new, in their original packaging so John felt safe enough to use them.

He tore open the plastic and took a cup out. Then he poured some chocolate milk in it and handed the drink to Teddy. Teddy gulped it down in record speed and then held it out again for more.

"I really hope you won't get a stomachache for this," John told him as he poured him some more; he could have sworn teddy just rolled his eyes at him, but since that was impossible for a child his age, John just chalk it off to exhaustion and went to put the bottle back in to the fridge. Now all he had to do was find something for dinner.

Sherlock of all people surprisingly solved the problem of dinner. Around 6.30, their front door opened and the detective came in, his coat almost dusted white with snow and his hair already dripping wet. He held a bag of restaurant takeout, comprised of mash potatoes, steak and salad.

"Oh god, Sherlock," John groaned as he went to the bathroom for a towel, after instructing the man to put the food on the table. Once in the bathroom, he couldn't seem to find what he was looking for since Sherlock obviously hadn't deemed their shared bathroom important enough to be cleaned like the kitchen because it was a mess. There were shirts everywhere, socks, pants and even shoes. Seriously, sometimes John felt he was actually living with a teenager.

Luckily, he found something in the closet and brought it over. When he found Sherlock again, he was surprised to see the man sitting in front of Teddy on the living room rug and having what seems like a staring contest with him.

It was than John remembered that he had wanted to ask Sherlock about the neighbor.

"Why didn't you tell me someone moved in 221C?" John asked bluntly as he unceremoniously dropped his acquisition on Sherlock's head. The man, in response, looked up from his focus and stared up at John.

"I thought you knew," was his only answer. John didn't know if he should be flattered that Sherlock thought so highly of him and confused as to why Sherlock had thought he already knew.

"No, I didn't," John answered, because it was always good to get to the point with the detective, "Have you met Harry?" He didn't even bother explaining who Harry was because he assumed that the detective was already aware. If he knew who Teddy was – and he knew, since he was staring at the kid with curiosity, but not the kind that wondered who he was – he must know who Teddy's father was. His assumptions were proved right when Sherlock replied: "Yes, I have met him. Yesterday when I was leaving the flat."

"Then do you know what he does? Because he told me he did a background check on us, and that he held a high up position in the government."

Sherlock's face turned sour and John guessed it's because he was reminded of Mycroft. The Holmes brother may be close enough to feel concern for each other from time to time – although neither Sherlock nor Mycroft knows how to show it – but that doesn't mean Sherlock doesn't turn in to the most interesting colors whenever his older brother is mentioned. John had for a time amused himself by dropping Mycroft's name as often as possible, just to annoy Sherlock but that lost its appeal when Sherlock decided to avenge himself by leaving the most atrocious body parts all around the flat. John was less than amused when he found a finger in his bathroom.

But, back to the point at hand, does this mean that Harry is somewhat linked to Mycroft?

"Unfortunately, he is," Sherlock replied sulkily, making John realize that he had spoken it out loud, "They met in a club."

John nearly spluttered at that.

"You mean in a gentlemen's club," he wanted to know because there was no way Mycroft, Mr. Prim-and-Proper himself, would even set foot in somewhere as undignified as a real club. He was proven wrong however when Sherlock scoffed.

"No John," he replied, stressing John's name like every time he wants to add a "you idiot" at the end of his sentence. John was so used to that that he wasn't even offended anymore, "When I said club, I meant club; those vile places young people these days goes…dancing." The last word was said with a grimace and it was John's turn to snort. His smile fell however when he took in the implications of Sherlock's words.

"Mycroft went clubbing!? How on earth did that happen?"

He wondered just how many more surprises this day could bring.

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Far, far away from Baker Street, in a luxurious hotel, decorated to the nines in honor of that evening's festivities, Mycroft Holmes sneezed. He tried to cover it up of course by a cough but it was too late; his companion had heard and threw him an amused look.

"Caught a cold, Mycroft?" the emerald-eyed man asked, a small touch of concern in his tone.

"Not at all, my dear," Mycroft replied just as lightly, "It must be the pollen in this place."

"Of course," he agreed, not even bothering to point out how there were no flowers anywhere to be seen.

"Anyway, where is little Teddy tonight, Harry?"

"I left him with your brother and his lover," Harry answered with a graceful shrug, "John was so nice to accept him."

"As if anyone can say no to that face," Mycroft commented in amusement; it was true of course, no matter where they went or whom they talked to, Teddy could always charm the pants off anyone. Harry had jokingly said that Teddy would be quite a heartbreaker when he gets old enough to date and Mycroft couldn't deny a thing. He'll have to work extra hard to protect Teddy from any money-digging vultures.

Almost as if knowing what he was thinking about, Harry lightly touched Mycroft's arm to bring him back to the present.

"Teddy is fine, dear. Don't fret so much."

"Well, one of us has to be the responsible parent," the man replied, wondering since when he started to act so protective of a kid that wasn't even his own flesh and blood. Harry really did a number on him; sometimes Mycroft couldn't even recognize himself anymore. He was happier than he was before, that's for certain but sometimes, he wondered if that was all there was to this whole thing.

"Mycroft, let's just have a good evening, ok?"

"Yes," Mycroft agreed, "But before we go in, I need to use the facilities."

Harry pointed the way for him and told the man he would wait for him right here. Once he was gone, Harry sighed a little and passed a hand through his hair; this evening hadn't even started and he was already tired.

A man, dressed in traditional butler uniform, came up to him soon afterwards.

"Everyone's ready for you and your date, Your Majesty."

"Thank you, David," Harry replied with a smile, "And don't call me that in front of Mycroft; he doesn't know."

"Of course, I have also instructed all members of the staff and the guests to do the same. You won't have any problems tonight."

"Thank you. Let's just hope this goes well."

Mycroft may think that he knows Harry pretty well, but the amount of things that he doesn't know about his lover could fill numerous Encyclopedias. If he wanted his relationship with Mycroft to go any further, he needed to make some critical choices fast.

TBC.

A/N: This is a Royal!Harry AU where Harry is the current Crown Prince of a small magic country. Unlike Britain who only has a small Wizarding community, this country is entirely magical. They're the official rulers of the entire Wizarding world. All Magical ministries will have to differ to them. Mycroft knows about Magic because of his position but he doesn't know Harry's true identity; it's so well protected that you have to be very close to the royal family to know.

I hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter. Please read and review:)

**Next Chapter: How they met.**


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